Dad’s the last one left Elfie keeps going for.
The kids are tired, the air is cold, and we’re way too far away from our starting point.
I know we’re not supposed to mention those things. It makes us uncomfortable, but we’re all adults here.
Had you told me two days earlier that this would have been Christmas, I would have screamed in worried agony. I would have called it a failure and seen my biggest fear become a reality.
It’s the type of thing that most of us might be afraid to talk about – myself included. So let’s talk about it.
They’re looking down on me with a smile or making my ears ring from afar.
Honestly, kids aren’t the ones who need to pen letters to Santa Claus anyway.
The turkey is gobbled and the pumpkins are mulch. You’re allowed to decorate. It’s OK now.
My pockets overflow with Hershey wrappers. They tumble out along the floor like product placement in a Hansel and Gretel movie.